


Finch in the Refuge

by josephjonxs



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Refuge, Tumblr request, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephjonxs/pseuds/josephjonxs
Summary: Based on a tumblr request. Finch's time in the dreaded refuge.





	Finch in the Refuge

Finch had a thousand insults in his mind when two pair of strong arms dragged him through the hallways, but as soon as his body hit the floor and his face felt the dirty and cold floor, every cuss word left his mind. He could hear the heavy shoes on the wooden floor as the two men left the room, the door closing behind them with a slam. The boy slowly got back on his feet, his gaze moving around the room. There were six bunkbeds pressed against the wall, covered with thin sheets which were stained. One small window was opened on a crack, bars in front of it. The entire room was lit by one single lightbulb on the ceiling, giving a dim light. What was worse than the dirtiness and state of the room was the kids who were staring at him. He guessed there were about thirty kids, some were sprawled out over the bunk beds, other sitting on the floor or just standing in the middle of the room. All looked like they came fresh out of the sewers, dirty faces and clothes, most were unhealthy thin. A few were the same age as him, some looked like they were eight or younger. Most were boys, but the few girls sat in torn dresses, hair that looked more like a bird-nest.   
“Is ya okay?” One of the boy asked, he was about a half a foot shorter then Finch, his sleeves were torn of his shirt and he missed his front teeth. Finch shrugged. He wiped a small trail of blood from his temple. “I’s Thomas,” The boy introduced himself, keeping a good amount of space in between them. “Finch.”  
“Yous name is Finch?” Thomas raised his eyebrow, the distrust showing in his posture. “Nah, it’s a nickname,” Finch explained, not planning on giving these children his real name. He had abandoned that name a long time ago, leaving it with the rest of his past. He had been going by the name Finch from the moment he had joined the lower Manhattan newsies.   
“Can I’s sit for a second?” Finch asked, as he felt a throbbing headache settle. “ ‘Course,” Thomas motioned to a bed, the kids parting to make space for him. Finch sat down, after giving the stained sheets a short look, no time for judging now. “Looks like ya put up quite a fight,” Thomas sat down on the floor, facing him. “I don’t go easy. Ya like the leader in here?”  
“Yes, Jack Kelly told me to look aftah the kids, before he escaped, ‘course,” The kid straightened his back, looking proud. Finch could not help a small grin on his lips. “Yous knows Jack?” Thomas immediately asked, his grey eyes filled with curiosity. “Yeah, I works with him.” It was clear this got the attention of every kid in the room, heads peaking over the sides of the bunkbeds, eyes focussed on him. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just Jack,” Finch shrugged, pressing his fingers against his temple, hoping the headache would fade. “Jack Kelly brings us food,” Thomas explained. “He brought a clean dress for Marie two weeks ago.”   
Finch had to say this surprised him. He knew Jack’s time in the refuge had made a great impact on him, but he had not expected this from him. One kid jumped up from a spot near the door. “Snyder is coming,” he hissed, motioning the others. “Up your feet,” Thomas said to Finch, as he stood up, helping some kids of the bunkbeds. Finch got on his feet, the world turning around him for a second. He looked up when he felt how someone grabbed his hand. A girl, no older than nine, looked up to him, softly dragging him to a spot against one of the bunkbeds. “Keep ya head down,” she said softly, right before the door opened. Finch dropped his head, staring at the floor. From the corners of his eyes he could see the man making his way through the room, he could feel the man’s gaze moving over the kids. The window shut with a hard slam and the man made his way out of the room again, shutting of the light. A collective sigh went through the room. “Finch, ya can share a bunk with Benjamin, Lee and Peter,” Thomas announced, his hand shortly hitting one of the top bunks.   
To say Finch had the worst night ever was an understatement. When he woke up, his muscles felt sore, his back felt broken and his face felt like he had run into a brick wall. He concluded it had to be from the fight and chase from the day before, but the matrass that was barely more than hay in a sack did not help at all. His back was pressed against the wall, one of the kids back pressed against his stomach and chest. He pushed himself up, slowly to not wake the other three. He swore he saw a rat running to hide underneath the other beds. Right there, Finch promised to never complain about the lodging house again. He would never threaten to kick Mush out of their shared beds ever again. Compared to this place the lodging house looked like a luxury hotel, not that he had ever been inside a real hotel. 

It took around two days to gain full trust of every kid in the room. The moment that most kids started trusting him was when Jack had showed up at the window, asking to speak to Finch. Jack had left him with two stale breads and a promise Jack would get him out of there as soon as possible. Two weeks passed, two weeks full of two meals a day, which were nothing more than some mouldy bread or soup. In the two weeks he had counted twelve rats in the sleeping quarters and at least ten kids had fleas. He was slowly going insane. Finch had never the kid who talked much, but the place sucked all his energy and will to talk. He often caught himself daydreaming about a glass of water from Jacobi’s, something he had clearly taken for granted. He even missed Race and Albert screaming in the lodging house when he tried to sleep or JoJo mumbling in Italian when he got mad. Finch would never admit this out loud but he missed every newsie, every one of those kids who occasionally got on his nerves.


End file.
